


The 221B Drabble Collection

by orphan_account



Category: Kidlock - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Teenlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom, parentlock - Fandom
Genre: Action, Crime, Death, Drama, Drug Use, F/M, Humour, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 221B Drabble Collection, consisting of many laughs, many aww's, many ew's, many's oh gods and whatever the hell you like to say.<br/>I will write drabbles consisting of how I feel at the time, happy = funny and humourous drabbles. Sad = The more dark drabbles. Angry = violent drabbles. You get the point.<br/>I hope you have fun.<br/>Please comment, as it helps me keep on writing :) Feel free to comment what you'd like me to write, any of your idea's, I'll do nearly anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Study in Spiders

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there.  
> This is the first drabble, slight Johnlock involved.  
> Please comment! :)
> 
> Summary: In which Sherlock is bored and John makes him have a bath, Sherlock grudgingly obliges until he finds a spider in the bathtub. When Sherlock eventually gets in and John has to talk to him...The conversation slightly gets a bit out of hand.

“John.” Came the insufferable wail for about the 100th time that day, John sighed and continued to at least try and read his book.  
Sherlock had been bored for about three hours now, so far he had not yet shot a wall, yet he had thrown the Flat’s fire extinguisher across the room and about three minutes later had set the curtains on fire by “accident”. How he managed it, John still has no clue.

There hadn’t been a case in two days, yesterday at least, they were out most of the day grocery shopping, at the bank and running errons. John had made sure Sherlock come with him, no matter how much of an embarrassment he may have been, otherwise he was sure he’d come back to find the flat either blown up or missing.

Today unfortunately, he hadn’t been lucky in distracting Sherlock Holmes, and now he was wailing like a cat begging for it’s dinner, somewhere in the flat.

“John.” It came again, this time closer. His hands tightened their grip on the book and he tried his best to ignore anything around him. This proved difficult.  
As about five seconds later a spoon was flung into his head, John dropped the book and clutched at his now sore head and turned to face a sheepish looking Sherlock in the usual black suit pants, bare-foot, and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows.

“What the hell was that for?”  
“Experiment.” Was all that was replied, Sherlock’s eye’s narrowed as if he were taking in data.  
“What kind of bloody experiment involves you throwing a metal spoon at my head?” John exasperated before frowning at his book now upturned on the floor.  
“The kind of experiment that checks wether or not you’re in a coma.”  
“Why would I be in a coma?”  
“You weren’t responding.”

John slowly turned his head to look him dead in the eye with fury, a small, sly smile was returned as Sherlock proceeded to dart out of the room again and into the kitchen.  
“Sherlock!” He tried, standing now, trying to see what the hell he was doing now.  
“Yes John?”  
“Before you start a cutlery war-” John was then interrupted by a fork sailing past his ear and sticking into the wall behind him.  
“I missed.” Sherlock frowned.  
“...Sherlock.” John whispered.  
“Hm?”

He knew he had to be quick, otherwise he’d loose whatever tame he had on the bloody wild animal, “Why don’t, you take a bath...and relax?”  
Sherlock stopped whatever he was doing, now holding a knife in his right hand, his expression turned to that of thoughtful.  
“Why would I take a bath?” Sounded his eventual response.  
“Because they’re relaxing, and you need a wash.”  
“I had a shower this morning John.”  
“Too bad.”

Sherlock’s brow had now furrowed, his lips slightly parted, he blinked a few times before replying, “You’re likening me to a dog.”  
“That’s a good deduction.” He nodded, wary of coming closer, yet needing to block an escape.  
“Why can’t I just shoot the wall instead?” The whining began again.  
“Because Mrs Hudson won’t like it, and I don’t like it either.” He took one step closer and instantly Sherlock’s eye’s narrowed further.

“I don’t want a bath.” God, he sounded like a stubborn six year old.  
“That’s too bad, you’re having one. It’ll relax you.”  
“But they’re boring John.” He cried, ditching the knife at the ground, it stuck out.  
John took this distraction to move closer and brought his arms out slightly, “Before you break anything else, go into the bathroom.”  
Sherlock looked back up and frowned, “No.”  
“Sherlock, go to the bloody bathroom.”  
“...No.”  
“Now.”  
“No!”

At this moment, Mrs Hudson decided to walk in. “Hoo, hoo.” She knocked.  
“Shut upppp.” Sherlock groaned, looking at the ceiling.  
“Oh dear, is he quite alright?” She asked, stepping in beside John.  
“He’s never alright.” He murmured.  
“Yes, well...” A worried look appeared on her features as he started muttering to himself and stepping here and there aimlessly.  
“Sherlock.” John tried again.  
No response, although his movements seemed to appear more aggravated and restless.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Mrs Hudson said before escaping, John sighed.  
“Sherlock, just go take a bath and after we can go out and do something if you want.”  
“I’m not a dog.”  
“Yeah, ha, I don’t care.” His voice turned commanding. “Sherlock Holmes, get your ass in that bath right now.”  
The expression on Sherlock’s face was priceless to John, he could have laughed if he wasn’t so pissed off. Slowly, Sherlock edged his way to the side and around John, down the hallway and into the bathroom.

“Do you need help?” He called after him, amusement now in his voice.  
“No.” A grumbled reply came back.  
Taking a breath, John picked up his book, found his page, and sat back down, comfy.

It was a mere minute later that the infertile voice broke his comfortable silence once again, “Jawn!”  
“What?!”  
“JAWN!”  
“What? What Sherlock?” John yelled back, standing up.  
“JAAAAWWWWNNN!” His loud, hollering wail was that of a terrified child.

He started to head to the bathroom’s closed door, “What the hell is it?”  
John opened the door to find Sherlock, long limbs and all, in a crouched mess on the sink, pressing as far away from the bath tub as possibly, an expression of pure terror.  
It was cute, funny and alarming at the same time. John didn’t know how to react so he frowned. “What’s the problem?”

Sherlock’s eye’s glared at a certain spot in the bath, blazing with fear and hatred. John’s frown deepened and he turned to look in the white bath, there, on the far side of the bathtub was a little Daddy Long Leg’s.  
“It’s...Its a spider Sherlock.”

A small whimper followed his comment.  
John tried his best not to laugh, “It’s a Daddy Long Legs, it’s hardly going to hurt you, it’s tiny.”  
A grunt replied him.  
“You could have just thrown some water on it, it’d fall down the drain.”

Sherlock furiously shook his head and pressed even further against the wall. John sighed, grinning all the while, grabbed small cup and toilet paper, bent down and slipped the spider into the cup before turning and showing Sherlock, who let out a low rumble.  
John could have fallen on the ground in laughter, was Sherlock growling?

“Look, Sherlock. It’s a tiny, harmless spider. It’s not going to hurt you in any way shape or form.”  
John held it closer and Sherlock instantly scrambled further away, backwards and to the side, a low wail/whimper emitting from his closed lips.

“Right, you, of all people, have Arachnophobia. Yet you’re not scared of anything else.” John tried his best to steady in voice, but it kept wobbling with giggles.  
Sherlock’s head turned to the side a little, his eyes fixated on the cup which held the spindly little creature.

John sighed and walked out of the bathroom, down the flat stairs before letting the spider outside, closing the door and heading back upstairs and back to the bathroom to find Sherlock with two can’s of Mortine and excessively spraying the whole bloody bathroom. The smell was horrendous, John didn’t even bother complaining he just ran back into the living room to get away from the fumes.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock reappeared with two empty cans of Mortine, he opened the window latch and threw them out.  
“Sherlock!”  
“What?”  
“We have a bin!”  
“Do we?”  
“Yes!”  
“Hm, sounds rather dull.”

John glared hard at Sherlock, “Get in the bath.”  
“Can’t, I’m waiting for it to air out.”  
“And who’s fault is that?”  
“The spider.”

Sherlock threw a sheepish look at John before disappearing into the kitchen for a glass of water.

A half hour later, when Sherlock was sure there were no spiders and no fumes, he decided to then have a bath. We walked out to John.  
“John.”  
“Hm?”  
“I’ll be bored in the bath.”  
“So?”  
“I want company.”  
John paused, lowering his book, “What?”  
“I want company, where two friends chat to one another. Isn’t that what you do?”  
“No, you have the wrong idea. You’ll be in a bath, naked. I’m not going to “chat” to you just because you’re bored in there.”  
“That’s what you did with Sarah.”

A long, loud sigh came from John as he rubbed his forehead, “Sherlock, just go have a bath.”  
“But I’ll be bored and lonely.”  
“Go to your mind palace and have fun there.”  
“I might drown.”  
“Yeah, that’s what I’ll make it look like.”

Sherlock frowned at John, “What if you sat outside the door and talked to me.”  
“Sherlock...I have better things to do than sit outside a door and chat to you while you have a bath.”  
“No...You clearly don’t.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You’ve finished that book, you’ve been trying to savour it for the whole day because you’d know I’d be bored, and you’d have nothing else to do because I broke the T.V. a week ago yet you can’t get it fixed without Mrs Hudson finding out. While you’re also bored you can’t be bothered doing anything, yet you don’t wish to sleep because you want to be tired by tonight to sleep through my excessive violin playing, most likely. So, by talking to me, that’s a “win-win”.

“I hate you.” John replied simply, getting up and picking up a wooden chair, following Sherlock down the hallway.  
“Of course.”

Sherlock entered the bathroom and shut the door, allowing John to sit outside it and curse his entire life as the water started to run.  
A few moments later the water is turned off.  
The conversation begins, with the occasional splash of water.

“Hi John.”  
“Hi Sherlock.”  
“What do you usually talk about in these situations?”  
“How would I know?!”  
“You and Sarah seemed to know...”  
“That was ages ago, Sherlock, Bloody hell.”

He supposed Sherlock was shrugging his shoulders, “Oh well. Start up a conversation. I’m getting bored.”  
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t bloody know, how’s your love life?”  
“My love life?”  
“Yes.”  
“You have a range of practically billions of questions and you choose that.”  
“Yes.”  
“John, I don’t have a love life.”  
“Why is that?”  
“Were you listening to me in the restaurant on our first case together?”  
“Yes, but then again, you weren’t listening correctly either.”  
“Oh?”  
“You thought I was asking you out.”  
“Well you should have said your words differently.”  
“Oh, so its my fault?”  
“Very.”

John rolled his eyes, “Well, have you had any different feelings to going out with someone, having a relationship?”  
“I go out with you all the time John, we have a relationship.”  
“Yeah, that’s really not what I meant.”  
“Ah, you meant sexual terms, yes?”  
“Well, more or less.”  
“You should know I’m asexual, in fact, I thought you knew this by now.”  
“Yeah, because I would know...”

“Hardly my fault you weren’t listening.”  
“When?”  
“I don’t know, a few day’s ago.”  
“That really helps...”  
“Sarcasm?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Right.”  
“How could you be asexual, when you’ve never tried it before?”  
“I don’t enjoy the thought of it, plus, I have no need for it if I have no need for a relationship with a woman.”  
“Or a man.”  
“Or a man.” He replied, agreeing.  
“Yes but don't you ever...I mean you were a teenager once, you never had...”  
“John, if you’re implying what I think you’re implying, I suggest you stop, it’s clearly making you uncomfortable.”  
“Thanks, lets change the subject.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then.  
“How’s your love life?”  
“Oh for gods sakes.” With that, John took hold of his chair and walked off.

“John.”

“John.”

“John?”

“Jawn?”

Are you dead? - SH  
Yes. - JW  
Well that’s hardly believable - SH  
Don’t care - JW  
I’m bored. - SH  
Clearly. - JW  
You left me - SH  
I did. - JW  
I feel lonely. - SH  
Good for you - JW  
I’m coming out - SH  
Please don’t -JW  
Little too late for that - SH

John sighed and pocketed his phone upon hearing the bathroom door open and the patter of bare, wet feet.  
Sherlock appeared next to him, towel wrapped around his nude body and dark hair a soaked mess.  
“John.”  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m tired.”

For once, John smiled genuinely. “Then go to bed.”  
Of course, Sherlock had to ruin it.  
“I’ll be lonely...Join me.”  
“No.”


	2. A Study in Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: John arrives home from his new girlfriend in the early morning to find Sherlock asleep on the couch. Cute/Fluffy warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you t my first Kudos! I hope you all enjoy the next chapter.  
> WARNING: Fluff and cuteness is involved.
> 
> Sherlock sleeping is simply one of my most loved fantasies. Why? I'm weird.

“I’ll call you, kay?” John smiled, pulling away from their goodbye kiss. Shaylein grinned back, “Alright.”  
With that he turned and headed out of the apartment into the night, starting off to the main road to find a cab.

Upon meeting Shaylein Riley a month ago, John found they had really hit it off rather successfully. With now spending a few days of full nights at her place with no drama and no awkward moments, he found the relationship attempt rather possible. She was pretty, smart, funny and rather attractive in his eye, and after the many unsuccessful attempts, he’d feel happy to settle down with her.

Yet there was a little thought at the back of his mind that kept ruining that feeling every time it was brought up. Sherlock.  
He wasn’t gay, so this made no sense as to why this upset him. Maybe the thought of leaving him?  
Well, he’d be sad about that anyway, but that wasn’t the reason.

He made it out onto the main road, walking along it till the pale wash of headlights from a black cab came into view, he held out his hand and it slowed by him. Getting in, he told the Cabbie the address and sunk back into his seat to think.

What if he was gay and felt something for Sherlock? No, no. That’s not right. You’ve always denied it when people thought otherwise, without a second thought.  
Maybe that’s your problem John, came another voice in his head, you think they’re onto you so you say no without a mere thought.  
That’s stupid...He thought harshly.

Clearing his head of such odd thoughts, he glanced out the window at the beginning’s of dawn, faintly outlining the dark silhouettes of tree’s and lamp posts.  
Eventually the cab pulled up outside 221B, a small light could be scene through the window above. John paid the cabbie and got out, unlocking the front door and heading up the stairs, hearing silence.  
Unlocking the flat door, he cautiously stepped it, shutting it softly behind him and peering through the dark light, the hallway light had been left on, illuminating the main room where John could make out a long figure draped across the couch, limbs splayed and in a messy tangle from being unable to fit.

Lying on his stomach, with his head slightly off the couch end, dark curls in an untidy mass, his arm hanging off limply, his tight, white shirt slightly undone and sleeves rolled up, his feet bare and his legs covered in black trouser pants, Sherlock Holmes, in all manner of his being, looked rather at peace, beautiful and...cute.

Woah, John, you just called him beautiful and cute in the one sentence. Careful there. He scolded himself.

He wanted to see more of the sleeping detective, yet he didn’t want to wake him by turning on the light.  
Instead, John walked into Sherlock’s bedroom, found his bedside lamp, took it out, plugged it onto the wall, and turned it on a bit away from Sherlock as not to intrude his closed eyelids.

With the light now suffice, it was easier to see him. See his fully relaxed face, lips slightly parted and eye’s occasionally showing signs of REM. John seemed fasinated by the sight, as, of the years of knowing him, he’d never once seen him actually asleep.

The sound of his breathing was soft, deep and utterly relaxing. He could have fallen asleep a thousand times over just to that sound. His hair nearly made John giggle, with how messy and untamed it had gotten, strewn across the top and side of his face.

After a few minutes of watching Sherlock sleeping, John decided it was creepy and turned off the lamp, dawn approaching more forcefully and breaking through the darkness.

Knowing Sherlock would wake soon enough, he gently propped up the tangled mess of legs and feet and sat down before replacing them on his lap and turning on the T.V. Flicking from channel to channel, yet keeping the volume down low so not to disturb the wild animal next to him.

John settled on NCIS as the sun slowly rose higher, now filling the flat with bleary light. Half way through the episode he decided to make tea, but really didn’t want to get up.

He sighed, about to force himself to get up when Sherlock’s leg twitched slightly, he froze, wondering what Sherlock would think if he awoke to half lying atop of John.

Yet the sociopath’s eye’s did not flutter, nor his face showed any source of being awake.  
A foot curled slightly and then both legs were brought up, off him and curled up near his chin, body turning inwards more and arms curling in a way of a cat sleeping, a hand covering part of his face as a cat would to keep it’s nose warm.  
His head buried deeper into the curled up circle he had now made and a low, content breath/grunt filled the silence. He continued sleeping.

John raised an eyebrow and got up, looking at the sleeping form once more. God, Sherlock really was like a wild animal, be bloody slept like one too.  
A smile gathered at his lips as he turned and strolled into the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make some tea.

Mrs Hudson then entered the flat, knocking quietly and giving off a soft, “Hoo, hoo.”  
John greeted her in silently and gestured to Sherlock on the sofa, Mrs Hudson proceeded to grin affectionately like a mother would for her son. “I’ve never seen him so relaxed!”  
“I’ve never seen him asleep.” John muttered back, remembering the countless occasions of Sherlock staying up and playing his violin.

John stopped the kettle before its loud whistle filled the air and poured him and Mrs Hudson a cup of tea.  
She then quickly got up and popped into his room, John watched with a frown of confusion, she appeared with a small, dark blanket which she proceeded to place atop of the curled up detective.

Mrs Hudson came and sat back down, John fought down his giggles, “We’re treating him like a bloody baby.”  
“I know, but he’s just too...”  
“Less annoying.”  
“Non loud.”  
“No bloody deductions.”  
“No complaints and lack of sympathy.”  
“It’s like he’s not here.” John finished, sipping his tea.

She glanced at the time, now 9 AM. “He looks much younger when he’s asleep.”  
“He does, doesn’t he?”  
“Not sure about you, but he looks adorable to me.” She finished her tea, thanked John and quietly headed out.

John put the cups in the sink, and was about to take a shower when a low groan was heard from the sofa, he doubled back to find Sherlock blinking in a haze, his fingers uselessly running and combing through his hair, finally he shook out his dark curls and turned onto his back, stretching out him long, ungraceful and lanky limbs and torso before pondering the blanket which was lying across him.

He sat up and yawned, before looking at John standing by the kitchen. “Jawn.” Came his deep, sleep muffled monotone.  
“Jawn.”

“Sherlock?”  
“I fell asleep.”  
“You did.”  
“Why did I fall asleep?”  
“I don’t know, I wasn’t here.”

Sherlock began to furiously scratch his head and then stood up in a fluid motion, “Now I won’t be able to think or process as well as I could before.”  
John nearly laughed, he was still sleep befuddled, he couldn’t place his words in a proper string.  
“You needed the sleep.”  
“No I didn’t.”

Sherlock then turned to walk towards him, stumbled slightly before rightening himself, “Make me tea John.”  
“I was about to have a shower.”  
“No, I’m about to have a shower and you’re about to make me tea.”  
John glared at him, he liked him better when he was asleep.

With that, Sherlock spun on his heel and headed into the bathroom.


	3. A Study in CoD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Sherlock is bored yet again but this time John decides to show him computer games, specificly Call of Duty. Little does John know how hooked Sherlock would get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the Kudos, Comment and Bookmark! :)  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, it randomly came to me in class.

Feeling the breath on his ear, John sighed and turned his head to look at the Consulting Dteective trying to see what he was typing on his laptop.  
“Do you have nothing better to do?” He grumbled, their faces were close enough to lean in and kiss, but the cupids bow before him remained in a straight line.  
The forever changing coloured eye’s flicked over him, “I’m bored John.”  
“That’s fantastic.” He turned back to his blog.  
The face leaned closer, “What are you writing?”  
“Blog.”  
“Sounds...thirlling.”  
“Does it, does it really Sherlock?” John muttered, furiously typing away again.  
“Yes, I look forward to reading it.” The deep monotone was loud, being so close to his ear, yet he was practically whispering.

He drummed his fingers by the keys and looked back at him, “You’re really bored aren’t you?”  
“Greatly so.”  
“Here.” John got up, placed his laptop to the side and went to the cabnet by the T.V., rifling through it.

Sherlock picked up the laptop and read what he had been reading, “The Bored Consouler?”  
“Yes.”  
“You’re writing about me?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well...Alright. Could have picked a better title though.”

John huffed, found what he was looking for and straightened, coming back over and taking his laptop.  
“Oh, what’s that?” Sherlock inquired, pointing like a child at a lollie, to the CD case in John’s hand as he sat back down beisde him.  
“Call of Duty.”  
“What in the hell is that?”  
“A multiplayer game. Well, and single player.”  
“...Is it...Is it one of those...computer game things...that people get addicted to and...”rage” over?”  
“Yes Sherlock, more or less, except, you don’t get addicted you just...enjoy the game a lot.” John replied doubtfully.

“Fantasic, give it to me.” Sherlock said hurredly, instead of waiting for a reply, he took the laptop from him and popped in the disk. It was Johns turn to watch. “Would you like a mouse? It’d be much easier to play with one.”  
“Whatever.”

Grinning, John got up to get one, coming back a minute later and clicking it in, Sherlock took it hesitantly, eye’s focused on the screen in an intriged way.  
“Which do I pick John? Campaign or Multiplayer?”  
“I want to watch people rage at you in Multiplayer, so go there.”  
“...Okay.”

After picking a match and getting into the game, John ended up giggling at how confused Sherlock was at first. “What do I do Jawn? How do I do that? JAWN?!”  
He went to make tea and popcorn for the occasion, unfortuently for him, when he got back, Sherlock had figured it out and was somehow playing like a pro.

 

‘HEADSHOT’ appeared on the screen as Sherlock’s hands and fingers zapped here and there with the mouse, eye’s flicking everywhere.  
Bloody hell, what had he done...John thought in horror.  
He was getting bloody quickscopes as easy as drinking a glass of water. How does a man do this. Well then again, Sherlock isn’t really a man. John compensated.

“John.” Sherlock muttered, eyes not moving from the screen.  
“What?”  
“I want a mic.”  
“What- Why?”  
“These noobs don’t know shit.”  
“Language. You were a noob basically twenty minutes ago!”  
“Oh please, that was ages ago.”  
“...”  
“MIC!”  
“No, Sherlock. I’m not giving you my mic!”  
“Well I can’t type, can I? They can’t even read.”

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you my mic.”  
Sherlock didn’t respond.

John got up and decided to go get some dinner, instead of ordering it.

****Cumbercollective****

When he arrived back, he instantly regretted it, raging yells could be heard from the room above. He knew he’d find his mic eventually...

Grumbling and cursing himself, he walked up the stairs and into the flat, Sherlock, with eye’s glued to the screen, the flat dark, and a headset clung onto his head, looked bloody ‘out of it.’

“HACKS!” Suddenly sprang from his mouth and John sighed even more, now he was resorting to using the word hacks for every time he died.

“Quickscope, you motherfuckers.” He muttered after.  
“Sherlock!”  
“WHAT?”  
“Don’t swear, it doesn’t suit you.”  
“Don’t care.”

“9 kill streak, I’m on FIRE John!” Sherlock cheered, the match ending.

 

“Yeah, fantastic. Hey! I have a new game for you!” John quickly added.  
“What? New game? Where?” Sherlock’s gaze was now fixed on him, he couldn’t turn back. He could only hope it wasn’t going to be as bad as CoD.

“Uh, it’s called League of Legends...LoL.”

Little did he know, that was a big mistake.


End file.
